FIC: Risen (Chapter 2/?)
Title: Risen: Chapter Two. (2/?)
Fandom: Real People / 30 Seconds To Mars.
Characters: Jared Leto.
Pairing: Jared/Shannon
Prompt: Table 2; # 10 - Cry (100_situations)
Word Count: 3,543.
Rating: Light R moving toward NC-17.
Warnings: character death/revival, desired incest, vampirism, subtle kink
Overall Summary: In the words of Supernatural -- what's dead should stay dead. But what happens when it doesn't? Is it the same individual, or an entirely different incarnation of them?
Previous Parts Chapter One.
Author's Notes: This chapter gave me trouble for well over a week, only to entirely change tone on me as I was writing part of it. I like the feel it gives though, so for now, the muse gets to do what it wants. This is a different take on the vampire than I think I've ever written, so don't be surprised to find some contrasts to the solo pieces I've written before, or even the vamp!Jared series, which I promise I haven't forgotten about.
A car engine turned off, but it was awhile before the driver's door finally opened. The house was dark, not even the outside porch light on, and as Shannon stared at the house he could pretend his brother was inside already asleep, or sitting in the dark playing his acoustic guitar, working on a new song. He thought he had no more tears left to cry but the burning in his eyes proved him wrong. Hands pounded the steering wheel before running harshly over his hair, eyes closing as a breath was drawn in.
Muffled barking was what moved him out of the vehicle, eyes wiped at with the back of one hand. The sound seemed as foreign as the silence and stillness that now surrounded him. Ever since the worst morning of his life the dog had been near mute, as sapped of life as Shannon. He used to kind of laugh when people talked of how animals, particularly pets, could sense things, could feel as much as their owners could. Never would he take lightly such a thing again. Only at the funeral had Judas broken his silence, tugging the leash out of Shannon's hand to trot to the casket, nudging it once with his nose and whining before laying down, head on his paws. Shannon hadn't had the heart to make him move until it was time to leave the cemetery.
The keys were fumbled with a moment but he eventually made it inside, the sharpness of the barks making his brow furrow. It didn't take much searching to find the dog though his heart twisted as he passed through the doorway to his brother's room; former room, part of his mind corrected him, and his eyes stung again. "What's wrong, boy?" His eyes went straight to the dog, trying to avoid looking at anything else. But the dog ignored his presence, seeming to be barking at the shadows, constantly shifting weight on paws and tail half raised. He let it go on a moment or two more and then walked over to hook his fingers in the collar, giving a tug. "Come on, Judas. No one's here. Come on." The tightness in his throat was ignored as he focused on pulling the dog from the room, not understanding his agitation. Even the shut door didn't deter the dog, pulling from his grasp to scratch at the door, barking a few times more.
Finally, he got a hold of his collar again and pulled Judas down the hall into his bedroom, shutting the door to keep the dog from running back to the other room. When he started scratching and whining Shannon just threw his hands in the air. "Fine, scratch a hole through the door. I don't care." He was too exhausted to deal with the dog turning quirky on him all of a sudden.
After a while, the noises were tuned out as thoughts consumed him almost against his will. He was too tired to fight his wandering mind yet at the same time past the point of sleep. Part of him kept waiting to wake up and find it all had been only a horrible nightmare. He could live with something like that. He wasn't so sure he could live with this... this emptiness where he never knew it could exist. For the first time in a long time, the bottle tempted him, offering a way to let him forget, for his mind to go blank for a few blissful hours. But he knew when he woke from the haze of alcohol his reality would be the same. The house would be empty, never again to be filled with the voice whose tones and timbres he knew better than his own, or the sound of laughter he was one of a rare few to know, or a smile that could truly light up a room, light up a life.
He failed.
For all their years he had silently taken the role of protector, ever watchful, ever vigilant. It was something that was never asked of him, not in the way he carried it out, but he accepted it willingly. They counted on each other when no one else could relied upon, when no one else could be trusted, when it seemed it was them against the rest of the world.
And when his brother needed him most? He had been oblivious to the danger.
The dagger seemed to turn with every breath, every second that passed in this new existence. He was lost, completely. Hands ran over his hair as elbows rested on knees, wetness dripping off his nose and cheeks onto the carpet. Blurry eyes watched himself cry with a sense of detachment; in the darkness his mind could turn tears into blood, and in a way, he wished it were. Wished it were his blood that had been spilled, his body that had been put into the earth.
Had it been quick or slow? Painless or excruciating? Did the fear build as it had in Shannon when he received no answer from his brother that morning, or had it hit as swiftly as a brick, sudden and crippling? Did he fight, was he unable to? Was not a sound made or did it just go unheard? Had he called for his brother and been left feeling abandoned, alone?
Shoulders shook and gasping breaths blocked out all else for a few long minutes. When his head rose finally he realized he was, again, alone. The door was ajar, the sound of barking faint, subconscious already knowing where it was coming from. In his state it didn't register how odd it was that the dog had been able to open the door, or that the other door was wide open.
"Judas, come on, please. Cut it out." His steps hesitated when he felt something that wasn't familiar carpet under his sneaker. Looking down, his brows furrowed when he found... dirt? The barking abruptly stopped, a high-pitched whine filling the room. It drew his attention and he saw the dog backing up, tail between its legs. Then his eyes went wide when he saw a silhouette form in the shadows, slowly becoming solid. The dog whined louder, pressing back against his legs, and blue eyes flashed in the dark before the face they sat in emerged, his breath hitching so hard it hurt.
There was no way... he had to be dreaming, having a torturous nightmare, mind seriously off kilter after all he'd seen and taken in over the past couple days. But the signals his body were responding to made it feel very, very real. The hair rose on the back of his neck, an icy tendril of fear snaking down his spine, and when he reached down to pet Judas it was as much to calm the dog as it was for him.
A ghost; that was what his mind was trying to reason with. It was the first thing that made sense at the sight of milky white skin, the way it drifted out of the shadows, which seemed darker than normal. It. Half of him wanted to revolt at that alone but the rest reasoned he was dreaming. The only thing wrong with that line of thought was that if he was indeed asleep... why could he quite solidly feel the dog pressed against his legs, so much so he had to take a step back to keep from losing his balance.
Something like a hiss filled the room, making the dog go still and silent, and after a long moment he dared a look down to Judas laying down at his feet, clearly distressed but relenting to it. His eyes came up slowly as if he couldn't stop himself, taking in the suit that had been picked out a day before, now dirty and torn in spots. The jacket was gone; shirt disheveled and stained with something he was afraid to assume was blood. But the skin that came from under it was whiter than the fabric once was. Indeed, all seemed paler save for eyes that seemed to pierce his soul when his finally met them and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
"J-Jare..."
"Yes, it's me, brother."
The voice was everything and nothing like it should have been, and Shannon started shaking his head, trying to reason with his mind while ignoring the fear. "N-No, it can't be. I'm dreaming. I have to be."
When he refocused the figure was closer, moving seemingly in the blink of an eye, and the dog was forgotten. "You're not dreaming. This is real."
"It can't be. It fucking can't be. You're dead, Jared! Dead!" Just thinking, saying the words brought on tears that made his eyes sting so much he wished he had no tears to shed. His throat was tight, felt like it was closing up, but somehow he found the strength to speak. "I saw you and you're not... We buried you today! I carried the fucking casket, me and Tomo and fucking... This is just a damn nightmare. You're just a nightmare, leave me alone!"
He never felt his back hit the wall, choking on sobs as his head shook back and forth. "You're dead, J... you're dead..." Fingers brushed his cheeks and it only made him cry harder, almost unable to breathe. This was nearly worse than everything else combined and if his mind was going to rip him apart like this, he wasn't sure he could hold onto sanity.
As the sobs faded and shaking turned to fine trembles he became aware of a sickeningly sweet smell, swore he tasted something in the air. His hands were fisted in the dirty dress shirt, he didn't remember moving, and those blue eyes were still staring into his in a way that made him think they hadn't wavered once. Up close they didn't look just one shade of blue, but multiple, and the longer he stared the more he felt like he could reach out and fall into them. A thought drifted through his head that it would be like falling into an ocean of ice water and it was gone before he could question it.
"Maybe I'm dead, maybe I'm not... but this is no dream, Shannon."
The voice held a childlike innocence he hadn't heard in years, maybe decades, and he sniffled, mind too broken down to offer resistance. Fingers swept across one wet cheek and he watched two pale fingers move to lips that held the barest hint of color. The tongue that slipped out was a shade of pink that made him think of the roses someone had brought to the visitation, but his mind stopped when shiny ivory flashed before his eyes. There was just enough room for the fingers to slide between two long, pointed canines, and then all was hidden as lips closed and the fingers were sucked clean.
He couldn't speak, wasn't sure what he would say if he could. The hand he was just now aware of pressed to his chest curled slightly and it was as if with that one motion he was aware of how close the pale being before him was. Fabric brushed fabric, limbs brushed others, and still that smell was there, heady and familiar yet at the same time like nothing he had smelled before. His head hit the wall as he sensed more than saw them lean in, felt their other hand ghost up one arm in a way that stirred memories and made his heart ache.
Then that pink tongue was grazing his cheek, sliding across his damp skin, and his eyes closed, hands clenching and unclenching involuntarily. "Don't cry anymore, big brother. I'm here. You haven't lost me."
"Jared..."
His brother's name came out as a prayer, body trembling at the way the voice caressed his ears, seemed to chase away the cold he'd felt ever since walking into that hotel room. Lips that were softer than he could ever remember pressed delicate kisses to his closed eyelids and his hands curled so tightly he waited to hear fabric rip. "H-How...?"
"Shhh. Questions can come later."
The last of his tears were cleaned from his face and he couldn't be sure if he heard something that resembled a groan or if his ears were simply playing tricks on him. His eyes snapped back open when those lips brushed his own, body jerking though he had nowhere to go. "What... what are you -"
"I can taste your love for me, and I love you too, brother. My first thought when awakening was of you."
No chance for a reply was given as lips pressed to his, firm but not demanding. Shannon's mind was drifting in a thousand different directions and he again jerked, feeling only the unyielding wall behind him and a similarly positioned body before him. They seemed patient but that patience was not unending, he could sense it, and he closed his eyes, lips hesitantly pressing back. After a few moments of contact they were licked as tenderly as his face had been. A broken noise rose in his throat and no resistance was offered when the tongue sought entrance.
What was going on, he had no idea, but something in him was making everything drift away but the present. Thoughts of finding his brother, the visitation, the funeral just earlier in the day faded like dreams at morning until all that was left was the one against him, of the warmth that seemed to grow inside him with every shift of lips and caress of tongue. His tongue too was coaxed out, tasting the new but strangely familiar, mapping out places it'd never been. The kiss grew more heated as his chest started to burn, lungs crying out for air. He was helpless to seek it, pinned by emotion as much as the physical. His hands pulled, tugged, the sound of buttons ripping quiet over that of his heart racing. Something strange was felt against his tongue, smooth and hard, and then he was gasping for air while at the same time making a soft noise of pain. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel a cut on his tongue, his eyes focusing on pale lips and seeing red smeared there.
A fingertip cleaned the lip and was looked at, examined almost, and then the tongue he was starting to know flicked out to lick it clean. That time he was certain he heard a groan. Dirty tousled hair covered the pale face as they looked down, both of them seeming to notice at the same time that he had ripped open the shirt. Surprisingly strong hands took his and moved them from fabric to skin, holding them firmly there when he reflexively tried to jerk away. Ice, it felt like ice, or sticking his bare hands in fresh snow sans moisture. Then those shifting waves of eyes pinned his again, holding him as surely as the hands over his as distance was closed.
"You'll help me get warm again, won't you, Shannon? Let me get warm inside of you."
His throat was dry, unable to move, to look away. He felt like it was only the two of them in a world of shadows, but even he didn't compare to the cold light emanating off the being before him. This wasn't his brother yet at the same time it was. Shannon wasn't sure about anything anymore.
Fandom: Real People / 30 Seconds To Mars.
Characters: Jared Leto.
Pairing: Jared/Shannon
Prompt: Table 2; # 10 - Cry (100_situations)
Word Count: 3,543.
Rating: Light R moving toward NC-17.
Warnings: character death/revival, desired incest, vampirism, subtle kink
Overall Summary: In the words of Supernatural -- what's dead should stay dead. But what happens when it doesn't? Is it the same individual, or an entirely different incarnation of them?
Previous Parts Chapter One.
Author's Notes: This chapter gave me trouble for well over a week, only to entirely change tone on me as I was writing part of it. I like the feel it gives though, so for now, the muse gets to do what it wants. This is a different take on the vampire than I think I've ever written, so don't be surprised to find some contrasts to the solo pieces I've written before, or even the vamp!Jared series, which I promise I haven't forgotten about.
A car engine turned off, but it was awhile before the driver's door finally opened. The house was dark, not even the outside porch light on, and as Shannon stared at the house he could pretend his brother was inside already asleep, or sitting in the dark playing his acoustic guitar, working on a new song. He thought he had no more tears left to cry but the burning in his eyes proved him wrong. Hands pounded the steering wheel before running harshly over his hair, eyes closing as a breath was drawn in.
Muffled barking was what moved him out of the vehicle, eyes wiped at with the back of one hand. The sound seemed as foreign as the silence and stillness that now surrounded him. Ever since the worst morning of his life the dog had been near mute, as sapped of life as Shannon. He used to kind of laugh when people talked of how animals, particularly pets, could sense things, could feel as much as their owners could. Never would he take lightly such a thing again. Only at the funeral had Judas broken his silence, tugging the leash out of Shannon's hand to trot to the casket, nudging it once with his nose and whining before laying down, head on his paws. Shannon hadn't had the heart to make him move until it was time to leave the cemetery.
The keys were fumbled with a moment but he eventually made it inside, the sharpness of the barks making his brow furrow. It didn't take much searching to find the dog though his heart twisted as he passed through the doorway to his brother's room; former room, part of his mind corrected him, and his eyes stung again. "What's wrong, boy?" His eyes went straight to the dog, trying to avoid looking at anything else. But the dog ignored his presence, seeming to be barking at the shadows, constantly shifting weight on paws and tail half raised. He let it go on a moment or two more and then walked over to hook his fingers in the collar, giving a tug. "Come on, Judas. No one's here. Come on." The tightness in his throat was ignored as he focused on pulling the dog from the room, not understanding his agitation. Even the shut door didn't deter the dog, pulling from his grasp to scratch at the door, barking a few times more.
Finally, he got a hold of his collar again and pulled Judas down the hall into his bedroom, shutting the door to keep the dog from running back to the other room. When he started scratching and whining Shannon just threw his hands in the air. "Fine, scratch a hole through the door. I don't care." He was too exhausted to deal with the dog turning quirky on him all of a sudden.
After a while, the noises were tuned out as thoughts consumed him almost against his will. He was too tired to fight his wandering mind yet at the same time past the point of sleep. Part of him kept waiting to wake up and find it all had been only a horrible nightmare. He could live with something like that. He wasn't so sure he could live with this... this emptiness where he never knew it could exist. For the first time in a long time, the bottle tempted him, offering a way to let him forget, for his mind to go blank for a few blissful hours. But he knew when he woke from the haze of alcohol his reality would be the same. The house would be empty, never again to be filled with the voice whose tones and timbres he knew better than his own, or the sound of laughter he was one of a rare few to know, or a smile that could truly light up a room, light up a life.
He failed.
For all their years he had silently taken the role of protector, ever watchful, ever vigilant. It was something that was never asked of him, not in the way he carried it out, but he accepted it willingly. They counted on each other when no one else could relied upon, when no one else could be trusted, when it seemed it was them against the rest of the world.
And when his brother needed him most? He had been oblivious to the danger.
The dagger seemed to turn with every breath, every second that passed in this new existence. He was lost, completely. Hands ran over his hair as elbows rested on knees, wetness dripping off his nose and cheeks onto the carpet. Blurry eyes watched himself cry with a sense of detachment; in the darkness his mind could turn tears into blood, and in a way, he wished it were. Wished it were his blood that had been spilled, his body that had been put into the earth.
Had it been quick or slow? Painless or excruciating? Did the fear build as it had in Shannon when he received no answer from his brother that morning, or had it hit as swiftly as a brick, sudden and crippling? Did he fight, was he unable to? Was not a sound made or did it just go unheard? Had he called for his brother and been left feeling abandoned, alone?
Shoulders shook and gasping breaths blocked out all else for a few long minutes. When his head rose finally he realized he was, again, alone. The door was ajar, the sound of barking faint, subconscious already knowing where it was coming from. In his state it didn't register how odd it was that the dog had been able to open the door, or that the other door was wide open.
"Judas, come on, please. Cut it out." His steps hesitated when he felt something that wasn't familiar carpet under his sneaker. Looking down, his brows furrowed when he found... dirt? The barking abruptly stopped, a high-pitched whine filling the room. It drew his attention and he saw the dog backing up, tail between its legs. Then his eyes went wide when he saw a silhouette form in the shadows, slowly becoming solid. The dog whined louder, pressing back against his legs, and blue eyes flashed in the dark before the face they sat in emerged, his breath hitching so hard it hurt.
There was no way... he had to be dreaming, having a torturous nightmare, mind seriously off kilter after all he'd seen and taken in over the past couple days. But the signals his body were responding to made it feel very, very real. The hair rose on the back of his neck, an icy tendril of fear snaking down his spine, and when he reached down to pet Judas it was as much to calm the dog as it was for him.
A ghost; that was what his mind was trying to reason with. It was the first thing that made sense at the sight of milky white skin, the way it drifted out of the shadows, which seemed darker than normal. It. Half of him wanted to revolt at that alone but the rest reasoned he was dreaming. The only thing wrong with that line of thought was that if he was indeed asleep... why could he quite solidly feel the dog pressed against his legs, so much so he had to take a step back to keep from losing his balance.
Something like a hiss filled the room, making the dog go still and silent, and after a long moment he dared a look down to Judas laying down at his feet, clearly distressed but relenting to it. His eyes came up slowly as if he couldn't stop himself, taking in the suit that had been picked out a day before, now dirty and torn in spots. The jacket was gone; shirt disheveled and stained with something he was afraid to assume was blood. But the skin that came from under it was whiter than the fabric once was. Indeed, all seemed paler save for eyes that seemed to pierce his soul when his finally met them and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
"J-Jare..."
"Yes, it's me, brother."
The voice was everything and nothing like it should have been, and Shannon started shaking his head, trying to reason with his mind while ignoring the fear. "N-No, it can't be. I'm dreaming. I have to be."
When he refocused the figure was closer, moving seemingly in the blink of an eye, and the dog was forgotten. "You're not dreaming. This is real."
"It can't be. It fucking can't be. You're dead, Jared! Dead!" Just thinking, saying the words brought on tears that made his eyes sting so much he wished he had no tears to shed. His throat was tight, felt like it was closing up, but somehow he found the strength to speak. "I saw you and you're not... We buried you today! I carried the fucking casket, me and Tomo and fucking... This is just a damn nightmare. You're just a nightmare, leave me alone!"
He never felt his back hit the wall, choking on sobs as his head shook back and forth. "You're dead, J... you're dead..." Fingers brushed his cheeks and it only made him cry harder, almost unable to breathe. This was nearly worse than everything else combined and if his mind was going to rip him apart like this, he wasn't sure he could hold onto sanity.
As the sobs faded and shaking turned to fine trembles he became aware of a sickeningly sweet smell, swore he tasted something in the air. His hands were fisted in the dirty dress shirt, he didn't remember moving, and those blue eyes were still staring into his in a way that made him think they hadn't wavered once. Up close they didn't look just one shade of blue, but multiple, and the longer he stared the more he felt like he could reach out and fall into them. A thought drifted through his head that it would be like falling into an ocean of ice water and it was gone before he could question it.
"Maybe I'm dead, maybe I'm not... but this is no dream, Shannon."
The voice held a childlike innocence he hadn't heard in years, maybe decades, and he sniffled, mind too broken down to offer resistance. Fingers swept across one wet cheek and he watched two pale fingers move to lips that held the barest hint of color. The tongue that slipped out was a shade of pink that made him think of the roses someone had brought to the visitation, but his mind stopped when shiny ivory flashed before his eyes. There was just enough room for the fingers to slide between two long, pointed canines, and then all was hidden as lips closed and the fingers were sucked clean.
He couldn't speak, wasn't sure what he would say if he could. The hand he was just now aware of pressed to his chest curled slightly and it was as if with that one motion he was aware of how close the pale being before him was. Fabric brushed fabric, limbs brushed others, and still that smell was there, heady and familiar yet at the same time like nothing he had smelled before. His head hit the wall as he sensed more than saw them lean in, felt their other hand ghost up one arm in a way that stirred memories and made his heart ache.
Then that pink tongue was grazing his cheek, sliding across his damp skin, and his eyes closed, hands clenching and unclenching involuntarily. "Don't cry anymore, big brother. I'm here. You haven't lost me."
"Jared..."
His brother's name came out as a prayer, body trembling at the way the voice caressed his ears, seemed to chase away the cold he'd felt ever since walking into that hotel room. Lips that were softer than he could ever remember pressed delicate kisses to his closed eyelids and his hands curled so tightly he waited to hear fabric rip. "H-How...?"
"Shhh. Questions can come later."
The last of his tears were cleaned from his face and he couldn't be sure if he heard something that resembled a groan or if his ears were simply playing tricks on him. His eyes snapped back open when those lips brushed his own, body jerking though he had nowhere to go. "What... what are you -"
"I can taste your love for me, and I love you too, brother. My first thought when awakening was of you."
No chance for a reply was given as lips pressed to his, firm but not demanding. Shannon's mind was drifting in a thousand different directions and he again jerked, feeling only the unyielding wall behind him and a similarly positioned body before him. They seemed patient but that patience was not unending, he could sense it, and he closed his eyes, lips hesitantly pressing back. After a few moments of contact they were licked as tenderly as his face had been. A broken noise rose in his throat and no resistance was offered when the tongue sought entrance.
What was going on, he had no idea, but something in him was making everything drift away but the present. Thoughts of finding his brother, the visitation, the funeral just earlier in the day faded like dreams at morning until all that was left was the one against him, of the warmth that seemed to grow inside him with every shift of lips and caress of tongue. His tongue too was coaxed out, tasting the new but strangely familiar, mapping out places it'd never been. The kiss grew more heated as his chest started to burn, lungs crying out for air. He was helpless to seek it, pinned by emotion as much as the physical. His hands pulled, tugged, the sound of buttons ripping quiet over that of his heart racing. Something strange was felt against his tongue, smooth and hard, and then he was gasping for air while at the same time making a soft noise of pain. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel a cut on his tongue, his eyes focusing on pale lips and seeing red smeared there.
A fingertip cleaned the lip and was looked at, examined almost, and then the tongue he was starting to know flicked out to lick it clean. That time he was certain he heard a groan. Dirty tousled hair covered the pale face as they looked down, both of them seeming to notice at the same time that he had ripped open the shirt. Surprisingly strong hands took his and moved them from fabric to skin, holding them firmly there when he reflexively tried to jerk away. Ice, it felt like ice, or sticking his bare hands in fresh snow sans moisture. Then those shifting waves of eyes pinned his again, holding him as surely as the hands over his as distance was closed.
"You'll help me get warm again, won't you, Shannon? Let me get warm inside of you."
His throat was dry, unable to move, to look away. He felt like it was only the two of them in a world of shadows, but even he didn't compare to the cold light emanating off the being before him. This wasn't his brother yet at the same time it was. Shannon wasn't sure about anything anymore.